


York vs. Sargent

by pianoforeplay



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray contemplates an amazingly unsubtle metaphor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	York vs. Sargent

"It's the _heart_ , Fraser."

"No, Ray, it's not. In the original Brothers Grimm tale, it's the lung and the liver that the evil step-mother wishes to eat--"

Ray held a hand up in his universal sign of Stop Now Before this French Fry Becomes a Permanent Fixture of Your Face and Fraser closed his mouth quickly.

Ray took a calming breath. "You. Are ruining my childhood."

"I'm merely relaying the original story--"

"Yeah, well. Next thing I know, you'll be saying there was no Dopey or something."

Fraser sighed and shifted back against the couch, "The Grimm tale never actually confirms or denies the names--"

"Fraser."

He shut his mouth again, his expression closing as Ray glanced up at him, challenging. Fraser's mouth opened once more and Ray's eyebrows shot up, head tilting and Fraser let out a sigh, suddenly getting to his feet.

Ray pulled back, his expression clearing a little. "Where you going?"

"Out."

"Out. Out where?"

Fraser didn't answer, holding the door open for Diefenbaker and then following closer behind as he slipped his hat on.

Both panic and anger gripped Ray suddenly and he shot to his feet, three long strides taking him to the door, catching it just as Fraser started to close it.

"Fraser!"

Unable to ignore the urgent tone of Ray's voice, Fraser looked back, just over his shoulder, his voice alarmingly calm, "I'll be back, Ray."

And maybe it was the cool tone or the fact that Ray could see no visible sign of anger in Fraser's eyes, but, either way, he relaxed his grip on the door, letting Fraser close it as he left. He let out a sigh and turned back to his now very empty living room, giving his couch a quick kick and then falling onto it, arms crossed over his chest. And waited.

True to his word, Fraser returned some forty-five minutes later. In the time he'd been gone, Ray had kept himself occupied by cleaning up their dinner mess (which basically consisted of throwing the hamburger wrappers and empty bags into the trash and not muche else) and stretching out on his couch, flipping idly from ESPN to CNN to Nick-at-Nite.

Ray refused to acknowlege the sounds of Fraser letting himself in, the thunk of the keys hitting the table by the door and the shush of fabric as Fraser took off his jacket and the scritch of Dief's claws across the floor as he trotted into the kitchen. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the television - Darrin and Endora were having a tiff over something or other - and shifted his weight on the couch, stretching out to cover it completely.

He could hear Fraser hovering right behind where his head rested and his jaw tightened.

"Ray?"

Fraser's voice was quiet and imploring and Ray sighed and let out a grunt. Just loud enough to let Fraser know he'd heard him.

But, Fraser didn't answer and Ray had to move finally and rolled over onto his back. He blinked as he looked up, Fraser seemingly hovering over him in all his bright red Mountie glory, and then tilted his head a little, his entire demeanor changing into unusually calm curiosity. "Dick York or Dick Sargent?"

Fraser cocked his head, which made him look even stranger from Ray's upside down perspective. "Pardon?"

"On 'Bewitched.' The guy who played Darrin."

Fraser gave him his patent look of quiet confusion before glancing up at the television, brow furrowed in concentration. Ray took the brief opportunity to stare at the line of Fraser's throat from his unusual vantage point and when Fraser looked back at him, he looked only marginally less confused.

"I don't believe I have enough information with which to deduce a reasonable..."

Fraser's voice faded when he noticed Ray wasn't really listening and cocked his head again, brushing a thumb over his eyebrow. Ray stared at him a moment, watching Fraser's hand move and then he was pulling himself up and sitting on the edge of the couch, hunched over a bit and staring straight ahead. Staring at nothing.

He could hear Fraser move to sit beside him, felt the couch dip under the weight of his body and Ray's eyes closed briefly before he turned.

"Okay. I have another one." Ray leaned forward a little. "Kenneth Branaugh or Mel Gibson?"

At that, Fraser's face cleared and he relaxed. "Ah. You mean in the role of Hamlet."

Ray gave a nod and then a half-shrug. "Yeah, sure."

Fraser leaned back, considering this intently and Ray tried to ignore the brief flash of Fraser's tongue as he licked his bottom lip. "Well, Ray, I wouldn't ever presume to consider myself an expert in the area of Shakespeare or film acting, but I've always been partial to that of Laurence Olivier's performance."

Ray shook his head quickly, lips pressed into a frown. "No. No, no. Can't. He's not an option."

"Ah. I see. Well then, Kenneth Branaugh, I suppose."

Ray studied him a moment, eyes searching, making Fraser feel somehow weirdly exposed.

"Yeah," Ray let out quick breath and gave a hesitant nod, still eyeing him, "Yeah, that makes sense. Probably have a hard time seeing Mad Max in all that period costume, huh?"

Fraser cocked his head again and Ray tried not to think about how much he looked like Dief when he did that.

"It's just-- See, I always liked Dick York the most. Because he was the first, I guess. He laid the groundwork and like, _made_ the role of Darrin. And then when he was gone and the new guy, Dick Sargent, just showed up and basically copied everything York had already done, right? There was no work in that. He just copied."

He waited for Ray to continue, being careful not to interrupt him.

Ray shrugged, his voice dropping a bit. "I dunno. Just always seemed like he had the easy route."

Fraser waited a moment to see if Ray was planning on clarifying and after a suitable amount of time, cleared his throat, his own voice dropping to a gentle tone, "Do you still believe that?"

And for a minute, Fraser wondered if Ray had any intention of answering him or even if he'd heard him at all, but then Ray shook his head and scratched the back of his neck and, still staring at nothing, murmured quietly, "No. No, I don't."

Fraser nodded and though he knew Ray couldn't see the movement, he trusted he could feel it. He reached out and gently rested his hand on Ray's back very lightly.

"Is it possible that both Dick York and Dick Sargent made the role their own?"

Ray's back shook slightly in a somewhat forced laugh as he turned to face him again. "That's what actors do, isn't it? That's their _job_. But, people still choose favourites, don't they? I mean, you still like Kenneth Brannaugh more than Mel Gibson, right?" Fraser tilted his head in preparation to answer, but Ray cut him short, "Or, yeah, Laurence Olivier or whatever. Point is, there's _always_ a favourite. Isn't there? And there's always someone who comes up short."

Fraser swallowed, his hand still light on Ray's back, but there enough to feel the breath enter and leave Ray's lean, compact body and he suddenly understood.

And didn't know what to say.

But Ray didn't give him the opportunity either way, quickly shaking his head and sitting up straight, "Nevermind. It's just television, right? Just a stupid show or a stupid movie or a stupid play."

He twisted around, giving Fraser a weak smile and Fraser dropped his hand, hesitating just a moment before giving a nod and pushing to his feet.

"You leaving again?" Ray's voice was softer this time, all anger drained from him and Fraser shook his head as he leaned over to pick a plastic bag up off the floor.

"Not unless you wish me to go."

Ray answered with a shake of his head and leaned back against the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and letting out a slow breath.

The plastic bag crinkled as Fraser rummaged inside it and then walked toward the television. Ray sat up at the sound of the television changing channels and watched as Fraser worked a tape into the VCR.

"Not into Nick at Nite then."

It was a statement. An amused one, and Fraser pulled himself up from where he'd been kneeling by the television.

"Not at all. And I don't mean to be presumtuous, but I thought we might... that is--" His face was coloured with a slight hint of embarrassment and Ray smiled a little.

"Ah. You went to the video store."

Fraser let out a quiet breath and nodded, looking slightly guilty.

"What'd you get? It better not be a National Geographic thing on caribou or something."

Fraser shook his head and gave a nervous laugh. "No, Ray."

"Not polar bears either. Though, I will admit they're more interesting than caribou."

"No polar bears."

"Seals?"

Fraser shook his head.

"Inuk-- whatever. Those piles of rock things."

Fraser was starting to look sort of irritated so Ray gave him a smile and nodded, silently giving him the cue to go on.

" _Snow White_ , Ray. The Disney adaptation. I'm afraid I've never been fortunate enough to see it."

And when Ray let out a quiet laugh and gave a large, bright smile, patting the seat beside him on the couch, Fraser felt only the smallest twinge of guilt in realizing that maybe he'd been right.

He had a favourite.

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/10288.html) on 4/02/2006.


End file.
